


The Hazards of Breakfast

by Telaryn



Series: The Hero and The Bad Boy [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Leverage, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Slice of Life, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn experiences the hazards of daily life in Avengers Tower.  Particularly when Natasha is having relationship issues and Tony hasn't had enough sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hazards of Breakfast

Quinn had always prided himself on being a man who could ‘roll with the punches’, as the saying went. He hadn’t opened fire on Natasha after all, when she’d burst into Clint’s bedroom just before dawn and dragged the half-conscious archer off with her to ‘parts unknown’, and he was pretty sure no jury in the world would have convicted him on that score.

Standing in the Avengers’ communal kitchen, however, getting his ass pretty blatantly checked out by one of the richest men in the world while he tried to fry himself an egg was one of those reality bending experiences likely to end up more ‘punch’ than ‘roll’.

Not that he hadn’t thought seriously about bypassing the whole thing; the look in Clint’s eyes when he’d mentioned them going _out_ for breakfast the night before was a pretty clear indication that this was something you didn’t go into lightly or without heavily armed back-up. Plus he had a job interview scheduled for late morning – potentially his first legitimate work in over a decade. It was his side of an agreement he and Clint had made about their future, and while he would sooner have died than admit it out loud he was keenly missing the archer’s reassuring presence.

Finally convincing himself that he was being ridiculous, Quinn raided the dresser for a t-shirt and sweatpants and headed down two floors to the kitchen.

Dr. Bruce Banner, Stark Industries consultant, the world’s foremost authority on gamma radiation and arguably the most powerful of all the Avengers, was sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over a steaming mug of what smelled to Quinn like tea. “Morning.” Quinn nodded at the man.

Banner raised an eyebrow at him, and Quinn could almost imagine he was smirking slightly. “So they tell me.”

Quinn thought for half a second about explaining his presence, but ultimately decided against it. Clint hadn’t said he _couldn’t_ raid the kitchen for food, but ever since he’d discovered Dr. Banner’s Big Green Secret, Quinn hadn’t really known how to act around the man. _Possible side effect of being hunted down and nearly flattened by him,_ his brain helpfully supplied as he opened the refrigerator and started taking a quick visual inventory.

“Clint still asleep?”

Quinn pulled out eggs, milk and juice, then turned and hip checked the refrigerator door closed. “I haven’t seen Clint since just before dawn,” he admitted, setting out his acquisitions, then searching around the stove for a frying pan. “Tash slammed into the bedroom like the Chitauri were at the front door and dragged him off somewhere.”

He was bent over, rummaging in one of the low cabinets, so Quinn wasn’t a hundred percent sure he’d heard Bruce make a barely muffled surprised noise. As he was straightening up, however, he heard the unmistakable sounds of Tony Stark coming through the open door. “What in the name of all that’s cheap and dirty in the world were you and Natasha doing at three o’clock this morning?”

Quinn glanced quickly at Banner, and was rewarded with a flush of red staining the doctor’s skin. _Interesting…_ Clint had told him that a flirtation of sorts had started between Natasha and Banner, but this was the first proof he had for himself that there was any truth to it.

Before Bruce could say anything in his own defense, Tony cleared his throat. Quinn continued turning to see Stark looking at his backside over the top of a pair of stylish dark glasses; his eyebrows raised in obvious interest. “Clint hasn’t even given you a drawer yet?” Quinn opened his mouth as Stark looked up – meeting his eyes – but his brain took that opportunity to helpfully remind him that in addition to being Iron Man and Clint’s teammate, Stark was one of the richest, most influential men in the world, so he closed it without uttering a word. The man he used to be would have had no problems dealing with somebody like Tony Stark.

The man he was trying to be, standing in someone else’s kitchen in a borrowed pair of sweatpants and worrying about an impending job interview, was on decidedly more uncertain footing. _If you’re not going to kill him or sell him to the highest bidder…_ It left him with painfully few options.

Seeing that he wasn’t going to be engaged after all, Tony smirked. “I’ll have to tell Barton I approve.” Then he made a show of leaning around for another overly dramatic leer at Quinn’s ass. “Damn, there are so many…perks…to being me.”

Quinn felt the muscles along his jawline tighten and thanked all his ancestors he wasn’t a man who blushed easily.

“If you and Natasha are going to be a thing, maybe I can talk her into putting you in tighter pants too,” Tony said, turning his attention back to Bruce just as Quinn was starting to feel a little ridiculous standing there with a frying pan in one hand and a carton of eggs in his other. _And nobody dying or in imminent danger of death. Clint Barton, what the hell have you done to my life?_

He blinked, realizing Tony was speaking to him again. “I’m sorry, what?” he asked, focusing in on the billionaire again.

Stark laughed. “I said can I get in on that action?” He gestured at the carton of eggs. “Over medium if you can do it.”

Still feeling overwhelmed, Quinn nevertheless nodded. “Sure. No problem.” As he rallied and turned towards the stove, he heard Tony murmur appreciatively, “And he cooks too – oh my.”

It took every ounce of control Quinn possessed to break the first egg into the frying pan instead of throwing it at Tony Stark’s head.  
*******************  
The sun was streaming in the windows of the tiny diner Natasha had dragged him to by the time Clint saw the bottom of his third cup of coffee. His partner was finishing her second piece of rhubarb pie – a culinary fetish he’d never had the courage to ask her the history behind. “We have got to figure out a different way of doing this,” he said, settling back into the vinyl covered booth seat. “One of these times Quinn’s going to shoot first, and I’m not necessarily going to be in the mood to stop him.”

Nat looked genuinely confused. “Jonah understands,” she said off-handedly, popping the last piece into her mouth and setting the fork down. “Occasionally our partnership has to come first.”

Clint smiled – he couldn’t help it. “For Avengers business sure Nat, but dragging me out of bed at four in the morning because you’re having second thoughts about getting freaky with the Hulk is crossing a few personal boundaries.” He paused, thinking about all the details he’d absorbed over the previous couple of hours in the name of their friendship. “More than a few.”

“You haven’t said anything before,” Nat said, her brow furrowing. “This isn’t the first time I’ve taken you away from somebody for a few hours, Barton.”

He had to give her that one. It was hard to complain about behavior he himself had helped foster. _Still…_ “This is different, Nat. _Quinn_ is different.” He saw no light of realization soften her expression and sighed. “Think about the last time I brought a guy home for longer than a night or two. I gave up my career for this man, Natasha. I risked giving up _you_.”

Natasha studied him for a long moment. “You’re not saying we have to give up our diner trips, are you?”

Clint shook his head. “Not at all – we just need to pick another time besides the middle of the night.” The waitress drifted near their booth, and he signaled her for the check. “You’re more than my partner Nat – you’re my best friend, and my feelings for Quinn aren’t going to change that.” He glanced pointedly at the sunlight streaming across their table. “We have, however, left him to his own devices in the Tower for too long, and he’s got a job interview this morning.” The waitress brought their check, and Clint immediately handed over several folded up bills. “Keep the change.”

“You did tell him not to leave your rooms, didn’t you?” Natasha asked once they were alone again.

Clint cringed, thinking of the insanity that would be facing Quinn if he ventured down to the main kitchen before any of the Avengers had their coffee. “Do I have to bring up four in the morning again?”

They retreated to his Mustang. “Did we get this thing with you and Bruce hashed out?” he asked as he put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

Nat slumped in her seat, bracing her shins against the dashboard. He’d broken her habit of putting her feet up on the molded surface, but her first inclination was still to do anything but sit up and face properly forward. “Yes? No?” She sighed. “Hell, Clint, I don’t know. It all seems so stupid now.”

He glanced at her. “He’s a good man Nat, and a blind idiot could figure out he’s crazy about you. Is there really a problem here?”

“You mean aside from the possibility that he loses control, Hulks out and destroys a city block?” The irony was thick in his partner’s voice, and Clint grinned – ducking his head.

“Okay, there is that.” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “How likely is that by the way? Do we need to clue Tony in?” Nat swatted his arm by way of response, which made him laugh. They talked and bantered over the short drive back to the Tower, and it helped keep his mind off worrying about Quinn.

“Have you told him how you feel?” Natasha asked as they entered the elevator that would take them from the underground garage into the Tower proper. She pressed the button for the main floor, then after a moment pressed the one for Clint’s.

Clint crossed his arms, leaning against the back wall of the elevator cab. “Are you seriously asking if I’ve said the ‘L’ word?” he asked his partner, raising his eyebrows.

She grinned slyly at him. “Well, have you?”

He snorted. “I am _not_ having that conversation with you.” The elevator stopped on the main floor, and he moved to follow Nat out of the cab. When she glanced quizzically at him he said, “Do you really think I’m lucky enough that Quinn stayed upstairs?”

Almost as if on cue, they heard a burst of laughter coming from the kitchen, along with the sound of breaking china. “Did we know Thor was in town?” Clint asked as the two of them stood side by side, staring numbly in the direction of the chaos.  
*******************************  
If he could have fit his bulk on the counter, he would have. Nobody was currently paying attention directly to him, and Quinn realized as he pressed even harder into a corner of the kitchen, that he was fine with that. The thunder God was currently celebrating the fact that he’d successfully made toast for the cute scientist Clint had told him was the closest thing Thor had to a conventional “girlfriend”. Jane was trying to look suitably impressed, but Quinn was pretty sure she was barely keeping a whole lot of laughter in check.

Steve Rogers was trying to have a serious conversation with Bruce about the viability of the doctor pursuing any sort of relationship with Natasha. Periodically the Captain would visibly wince – as far as Quinn could tell the reaction was either to Thor breaking another piece of kitchenware, or Tony doing something with the hand he had out of sight under the table.

 _That_ was a relationship that threatened to send Quinn’s eyebrows crawling up into his hairline. Not that Rogers wasn’t a generally good guy and _very_ easy on the eyes, but he did have a pretty epic stick up his ass most of the time. Which was why Quinn could understand somebody like Tony Stark hitting on the Captain like a monkey with a pleasure button, but not why Rogers tolerated it.

 _More than tolerate…_ Quinn realized as the two men looked at each other and he caught what seemed to be a genuine flash of emotion between them.

“I’ll scratch your eyes out.” Quinn blinked – Tony hadn’t moved, hadn’t reacted in any way to Quinn watching him, but the mercenary couldn’t shake the feeling that the comment had been directed at him.

Steve rolled his eyes, and Quinn realized that the room had abruptly fallen silent; everyone looking at him. “I’m a very generous man, James Bond,” Tony said, turning his head slowly to meet Quinn’s eyes. “Certain things of mine are off limits though – don’t even think about it.”

“I can’t tell you how great it feels to be objectified like this,” Steve muttered, slapping at Tony’s arm.

“As long as we’re talking about objectification,” Quinn said, drawing himself up and setting his coffee aside, “why don’t we talk about the intense scrutiny you were giving my backside earlier?” His heart was still pounding much too fast, and he was _painfully_ aware of the amount of phenomenal cosmic power currently arrayed in front of him, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out in this kind of banter you were either Tony Stark’s foil or his victim.

And Quinn was _nobody’s_ victim.

Luckily Tony was a man who appreciated a decent opponent. “My house,” he smirked. “My rules. If you’re going to prance around in my kitchen in tight sweatpants with an ass that perfect…” He shrugged.

“I _don’t_ prance,” Quinn said, just as the rest of the room laughed.

A voice at the door undercut the noise. “Well not in public, at any rate.” Adrenaline spiking through him, Quinn looked up to see Clint and Natasha standing in the open doorway. Clint’s arms were folded over his chest, clearly prepared to play the role of over-protective boyfriend by the way he was glaring at Stark. “Sexually harassing a highly trained mercenary who also happens to be involved with the world’s greatest sniper?” His mouth twisted in a wry grin, and Quinn realized with a rush of relief that there was nothing really serious in play here. “I thought you were supposed to be a genius, Tony.”

“Smart enough to not leave _my_ toys lying around unattended,” Stark retaliated. “So far he’s made me breakfast, given me something pretty to look at while I ate, and agreed to come on board full time as second in charge for the world-wide security division of Stark Industries. Seems to me I’ve made much better use of him than you, although again I have to commend you for making him borrow _your_ sweats.”

Clint’s jaw dropped. After a protracted moment of stunned silence, he looked across the room at Quinn, who shrugged helplessly.

It had been an interesting morning, to say the least.

Recovering relatively quickly, Clint threaded his way through the press of his teammates until he reached Quinn. “I thought you had an interview with that Fortune 500 company downtown?” he asked, clearly confused.

Now it was Quinn’s turn to smirk. “I thought you were taking me out to breakfast.”


End file.
